


A Name to Remember

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: and mentions of a bunch of rare blades
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 10:03:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13738524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: The lamentations of a Common Blade.





	A Name to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> i get attached to common blades very easily

There are many like her. Too many, even, perhaps, an unsettling thought that raises questions she’d rather not ask. 

People call the likes of them _Common Blades_ , easily identified by unassuming grey features and armored body parts that are neither striking nor pretty, just plain. It’s not a very glamorous thing, being referred to as a common part of an even more common mass, carrying some underlying implication that they’re simply… common. 

Or not important at all. She should have figured that out when she was sent off to Garfont shortly after her awakening. It’s been some time since she’s seen her Driver. 

“ _I_ say it’s a privilege,” Zenobia says to her, one day. “Being a merc is awesome! We get to go on missions, fight baddies, beat up monsters, beat up _more_ monsters— what a life, am I right? Ahaha!” 

“For you, maybe,” the Blade responds. “Not all of us are blessed with overwhelming strength like you.”

Zenobia is strong. Ridiculously strong. Other Blades who have been assigned to her team always come back to the village worn and wheezing, unable to keep up with her raging whirlwinds. Blades capable of that sort of power without their Driver are few and far between, and it’s usually the ones like Zenobia who end up leading teams for the heftier assignments. 

_Common Blades_ aren’t like that. 

Apparently unconcerned, Zenobia waves a hand at the wrist and scoffs. “Don’t sweat it. I’m just one of the best there is. Anyway, you look like you’re halfway decent at fighting! Join my Boss Buster Band next time, uh… er… what was your name, again?” 

“Mmh.” She gets up and leaves. 

“Whaaat? What’d I say?! It’s not my fault all you guys look so similar!” 

The days tend to pass in such a fashion, like water flowing uninterrupted over and around jagged rocks. In between missions and battles and idle chit-chat with other Blades, she begins to wonder, and those wandering thoughts begin to bloom thorns that scratch at the insides of her chest. 

She looks at herself in the reflection of one of the springs, and sees an indistinguishable face as generic as any other. No wonder Zenobia couldn’t remember her name. 

— 

The Aegis’s group quietly returns to Garfont Village one morning. She half-expects a stampede of Blades rushing to greet the Drivers they haven’t seen in weeks, but no one seems bothered and the day continues on as it normally does. 

So she, too, stays back, wary of putting herself forward. Perhaps her Driver wouldn’t recall her name either, she bitterly thinks. 

She doesn’t want to be intimidated. Refuses to be. But the Blades privileged enough to be delegated to travel with the Aegis are something else on an entirely different level, perhaps even greater than Zenobia’s might, and only then does she realize how small she truly feels. 

This is just how things are. 

Those called Common Blades were never meant to be anyone remarkable. 

The thorns grow, spiraling around what may be a heart, scratching and scratching until the moment her Driver finds her at the plaza. 

“Hello, Sakuya.” Mòrag softly smiles, and the realization that she was _remembered_ is enough to quell the thorns and dull their sharp points for now.

—

Her name is Sakuya and she is a Blade. She’s fond of roasted vegetables and sweet drinks, and her favorite board game is Coral Reversi. She wields a Chroma Katana and her ether energy takes the form of cutting winds, winds that cannot possibly ever compare to Zenobia’s tempests, but they are winds nonetheless. 

Mòrag remembers all this, and buys her a Fizzy Lassi at the tavern. 

“I hope my prolonged absence has not been an issue for you,” Mòrag says. 

Sakuya shakes her head and slowly sips at her drink. The smoothed wood of the bar had never looked so fascinating before. What is she even supposed to say here? 

So, she shrugs. “Merc work keeps me busy.”

Mòrag is the _most powerful Driver of Mor Ardain._ Zenobia often likes to boast of this to anyone who would listen, that she’s bonded to the _most powerful Driver of Mor Ardain_ , as if that’s supposed to hold any weight when Mòrag is hardly even around. 

Being the Blade of such a monumental figure of authority means nothing to Sakuya, frankly. She doesn’t want it to mean anything.

“Lady Mòrag.”

Brighid. Even more powerful than Zenobia, a Jewel truly worthy of being wielded by Mòrag. A Blade like Brighid would never be delegated to mercenary work. She doesn’t even glance in Sakuya’s direction. “Kora has been asking for you nonstop. _Please_ go see her before I do something drastic to that girl.”

Mòrag nods, and places something beside her drink as she stands. “I’m sorry to cut this short, Sakuya. We’ll speak later.” 

Then she’s gone with Brighid, briskly walking away. Sakuya stares down at the Core Chip Mòrag had left for her. 

—

Mòrag finds her again just outside the village, sitting in the grass and watching a Blant prod around in the mud at the edge of the spring. 

“Good evening, Sakuya.”

“Hey, Mòrag.” 

“Have you fitted the Core Chip to your weapon yet? It’s Winonaite.” 

She did. With this, perhaps she could keep up with Zenobia for a short time now. Sakuya stands. She wordlessly materializes her sword in her hand and holds it up for Mòrag to see; she nods in approval. Why she does, Sakuya can’t exactly fathom, because it isn’t as though Mòrag would ever actually _wield_ her—

Her hand brushes over Sakuya’s. “May I?”

The words get tangled up in those thorns, new ones growing over and filling her throat, rendering her unable to speak for a moment. Mòrag’s hand is warm. Her eyes are warm. She’s the most powerful Driver in the Ardainian Empire, and she’s asking for permission to hold the weapon of a mere Common Blade whose winds are as fleeting as her Driver’s presence. Sakuya dumbly nods and gives the Katana to her. 

Mòrag runs her hand along the sheath and slowly draws the blade. It glows with ether energy that reflects off the metal of Mòrag’s uniform and armor, casting them both in blue that is as clear as Cleansing Springs.

Sakuya’s Core Crystal is pulsing faster, finally freed from the thorns.

“Let me come with you,” she blurts out. “I can prove my worth.” 

A pause. Mòrag slides the blade back into its sheath. “You are not the first to ask me that.”

She doesn’t even know how many Common Blades Mòrag had resonated with, come to think of it. What are they, compared to those like Brighid and Zenobia? What is Sakuya’s sword, compared to Perceval’s and Theory’s and Aegaeon’s? 

Resentment bubbles in place of the thorns, and Sakuya clenches her fists. “Then you just wasted a Winonaite Core Chip on me.”

“I—“

“There’s a question I’ve always wanted to ask you, Mòrag. I gotta hear what you have to say.”

Still holding the Katana, Mòrag nods. 

“Why did you awaken us?” 

_Us_ , them, the Common Blades, whose names Zenobia can never remember.

The Blant digs itself into the mud and goes silent.

—

Their affinity link is unimaginably warm. Sakuya can’t recall ever experiencing a similar sort of happiness, even if they aren’t in battle, but Mòrag’s hands are gentle upon her Chroma Katana and Sakuya can feel all the sincere empathy emanating off her.

_Because every life has meaning._

That’s what she truly believes, Sakuya can tell. The most powerful Driver in Mor Ardain is that kind of person, the kind who would curse a Blade to a life away from her Driver because that life must be made into something more meaningful. 

Embracing that independence is such a daunting thing.

“Do you enjoy being with the Garfont Mercenaries, Sakuya?” 

She does. She truly does. Even when she struggles to keep up with other Blades and her sword feels dull and her winds won’t cut deep enough, it keeps her going through each and every day in spite of all her doubts and bitterness over being unacknowledged for being a _Common Blade._ She realizes, finally, that all she wants is for her name to be remembered.

Even without her Driver, she enjoys that life of never-ending struggles. It gives her something to fight for.

Someday, she’ll be recognized.

Sakuya breathes, “Yeah.”

—

The Aegis’s group leaves next day. Sakuya sees them off at the gate with other Blades. It’s a noisy, hectic farewell, with so many people and so many Blades— Floren reminding Zeke not to do anything stupid, Vess trying to push a fat bundle of dumplings into Nia’s hands, Kora rambling to no one in particular, Dromarch exchanging farewells with fellow Beast-type Blades, Brighid being snide to Dahlia, Pandoria’s lightning crackling with Electra’s booming thunder— and Mòrag looking straight at Sakuya past all the others as Zenobia excitedly tries to verbally cram in some last minute story about her latest run-in with a Mammut in Temperantia into her ear. 

Zenobia, noticing Mòrag’s attention drifting away from her very exciting ranting, looks at Sakuya as well with a toothy grin.

“Whoa, Sakuya! I didn’t even see you there!” 

She remembered her name. Sakuya must look surprised, because Zenobia heartily laughs. 

“We may not see each other again for quite some time,” Mòrag says, to Sakuya.

“I don’t mind.”

And Mòrag nods in understanding with a small smile. 

Zenobia thumps Sakuya on the shoulder. “That Katana’s looking extra sharp. New Core Chip, right? Mòrag told me about it. Join my Boss Buster Band for our next mission! I wanna see just how sharp that sword is!”

She’ll never really be able to compare to the likes of her, but she doesn’t really need to. Mòrag turns away to finally give Kora some attention, but Sakuya finds that she doesn’t mind at all. She challenges Zenobia’s wild grin with her own subtle smirk.

“I’ll work my ass off to meet your expectations.”


End file.
